Page 33 of Shame Me
“It was implied.” Zack stood, planting his feet firmly as if expecting to absorb a punch across the jaw.
“That’s your interpretation. Let me say it slowly so you understand: you gotta stop riding our asses. We play just fine.We’ve been playing these goddamned songs for years on end. We know what we’re fucking doing.”
“Yeah, and we’ve all gotten sloppy. It’s fine for a bar full of drunk people who don’t give a shit—but we’re gonna be laying down tracks that will represent us forever. Think about Hendrix, like ‘Voodoo Child.’ You hear it in your head a certain way because that’s the way it was recorded—decades ago, man. What if he’d gone into the studio with a fuck-it attitude?”
“He probably did. The man liked his heroin.”
Zack’s eyes widened, as if he couldn’t believe Cy would get so lippy. “Look—this album’s gonna have my name on it. It represents a vision I had before you even joined my band. If you don’t like, you can get the fuck out.”
Cy’s cheek rippled as if he were holding demons back. After letting out a slow breath, he said, “I’m not leaving. I’m just asking you to be less of a dick. I don’t see why that’s such a big goddamned problem.” Before Zack could respond, Cy looked over at Braden and me. I wasn’t sure about Bray, but I wished I could melt into the floor. “Is it just me or do you guys think he’s being a dick too? Be honest.”
Braden shrugged, clearly not wanting to commit, especially over such a contentious issue. I knew, if push came to shove, that Braden would always side with Zack. Not just over Cy, but over me—and probably over his own mother. Braden and I were Zack’s original fan club—and Braden had way more time invested than I had.
But Cy was right. Even though he’d been a dick himself saying it, he wasn’t wrong. Still, I kept my voice soft. “You’ve been…a bit of a tyrant.”
Again, Zack’s eyes told us everything. With just Cy saying something, he could dismiss it—but because I agreed, he was taking it in. He gave a quick nod but his mouth was still turneddown into a frown. “Fine. I’ll try to be a bit less of an asshole. But it would help if you guys would focus when we do this.”
“Focus?Are you fucking kidding me?”
I held up a hand in front of Cy and spoke gently. “He admitted you were right. Can you just take that as a win?”
He got ready to say something and then clamped his mouth shut, now glaring at me as well. But he turned, put his guitar in its case, and then walked to his bedroom—and didn’t even slam the door. Zack said to Braden, “You got something to add?”
“Nope.” Quickly, Braden rested his bass in the stand against the wall and made his way to the bathroom.
His eyelids half lowered, Zack turned, apparently satisfied that he’d quelled a potential coup. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter, he started heading toward the door. I couldn’t help myself any longer. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Zack, it’s not healthy to—”
“I’m not going because of the argument, okay? I have shit to do.”
“Like what?”
Turning, his green eyes seemed to peer deep inside my soul. As he opened the door, he said, “Like none of your goddamned business.” The sound of the door closing was like a punctuation mark.
All I knew was, if Zack kept this up, I’d no longer have a problem getting over him. It would happen naturally—and part of me was praying for that day.
CHAPTER 10
The night before our first day at the studio, I woke up around one AM. I wasn’t sure why at first until I needed to get up to pee. On my way to the bathroom, I spied Zack sitting at the kitchen table.
I wasn’t sure why he was there but, when I left the bathroom, I headed to the kitchen to find out why he was having trouble sleeping. “What’s up?” I asked, not even thinking about the fact that I was wearing a short nightie that barely covered my ass.
Clearly, I’d gotten way too comfortable with male roommates.
He was drinking from a short glass filled with clear liquid. The vodka pint next to it, almost empty, stood at the ready, and I thought to myselfat least he’s not drinking straight out of the bottle. Not that it mattered. An alcoholic didn’t necessarily drink from a bottle.
Was that what Zack was? An alcoholic?
The thought had been at the back of my mind for a while now, but this was the first time I was actually acknowledging it consciously. Regardless of what I called it, he had developed a problem with drinking, and I could no longer brush it aside.
“Nothing.”
That was bullshit—which meant I’d have to be a bit more persistent. I got a glass out of the cabinet and poured myself some water before sitting down next to him. We were silent for a little bit but he didn’t say a word…which meant I was going to have to try to get him to. “How long have we been friends, Zack?”
“A while.”
